The phone buzzed against Mila Garcia’s thigh, a brief jolt against the roar of sirens and the acrid tang of smoke already curling in the air. She didn’t need to check it. When the call came, she moved. Her focus sharp as she shrugged into her turnout gear, the jacket’s weight settling like a second skin. Her crew moved around her—Elliot hauling hose, Jamie checking the rig’s pressure, Nate, the EMT on staff was grumbling about the rookie’s sluggish pace. “Jamie’s fine!” Mila shot back without looking. She caught sight of the rookie’s hands, steady as they snapped the couplings into place, her movements practiced, even graceful. Quiet didn’t men…